Down the Alleyway
by Thoughts Of A Shadow
Summary: There are a lot of things Bruce Wayne doesn't like. He doesn't like thinking about the night his parents were murdered. He doesn't like walking down dark alleyways, or getting stabbed, or getting attacked by the Joker. Tonight just isn't his night.
1. Boo Boos For the Billionaire

**A/N: If you guys can't tell…well, you actually might not be able to…I LOVE Batman. Nolanverse, anyway. I have several other stories that will be posted with time. This is a multi chapter, but it'll probably be short. I will also be updating Playing a Game With a Bat soon, I just have to finish typing.**

**Disclaimer: Does anyone else hate these? I don't own any of the characters owned by DC Comics…**

_(--memories--)_

(thoughts)

Bruce sighed as he wandered towards the back door in the theatre, of all things, alone. Of course, he hadn't arrived single, but tonight's date had run off with the play's leading actor to go hit the clubs. He'd brought her here to impress her, telling her that he loved the opera (he didn't). Now, he walked absentmindedly down the hall, somewhat steadily approaching the old door. In his mind's eye he kept reliving the nightmare over and over(--_take it easy-BANG!--)_ He didn't even realize that he was outside until a cool breeze hit him, ruffling up dark brown hair. He shivered slightly. Springtime in Gotham was always chilly. Bruce stuck his hands deep down into the pockets of his Armani suit, head bent down so that he was staring at the street. As he meandered the alleyway, his mind unwillingly strayed again to the memories of the night his parents were murdered (--_give me the money! Pearls…Mom, no!--)_.

As wrapped up in his thoughts as he was, Bruce didn't notice that there was someone behind him until he was too late( --_man coming up behind them-give me the money!--_). There was a sudden sense of the world spinning(_--dizzy, red lights flashing, red covering the ground red, red, red, redredre--)_ out of control as he was grabbed roughly and spun around, but everything froze when he felt the cool stinging of metal on his throat. They'd pulled a knife on him (_--Wanna know how I got these scars?--_). Bruce twisted around viciously, thrashing and kicking, yelling at the top of his lungs in a ferocious roar that would have sent a lion running. But it did no good, seeing as he was silenced with a hard punch to the jaw (_--You're father would have been ashamed--_), which sent him staggering backwards, at which point he tripped over a random board (Why was that there?). Two of the multiple people surrounding him quickly took advantage of his dazed state, grabbing his arms and forcing him to remain still. He was still struggling when an eerie, creeping laugh floated up from the shadows. The vigilante stilled as a man, dressed in a purple suit, with garish scars painted red extending from his mouth, stepped out from the shadows, laughing manically.

"Oh, _puh-_leeze! _Stop_ it!" The Insane clown giggled, sauntering up to the helpless billionaire.

"This is just _too_ good!" He continued, the large smile on his face only extended by the hideous scars.

"How _are_ you, Mr. _Wayne_? I didn't get to meet you at the little _party_ you threw _Dent_." Bruce shied away slightly as the Joker pulled one of many knives out of his coat pocket(_--party-Rachel-Waiting--)_. The psycho raised an eye brow.

"Not scared of, uh, little old _me,_ are you Mr. Wayne?" He chastised, laughing quietly. At this, Bruce frowned, growling not unlike his alter ego would. Both of the Joker's eye brows rose at this.

"Got a bit of a _tem_-per, don't we Mr. Wayne? Or, uh, can I call you Bruce?" He asked, mockingly. The vigilante snarled again before realizing that he should be terrified right now(_--Mind your surroundings!--)_. Hadn't he been the one that ran to his panic room when the Joker came to call at the fundraiser? Well, it was a little too late for that. The Joker put on a show of looking around the alley, spreading his hands wide( _--a little opera goes a long way-BANG!--)_.

"But then again, this is all, uh, _fi-_mil-iar, isn't it? Didn't Mommy and Daddy die behind a, uh, theatre too?" At this, the demented clown broke into peals of psychotic laughter(_--screaming, perals, red, cold-my fault, my fault, myfault, myfaultmyfaultmyfaul--)_.

"You sick freak!" Bruce shouted(_--Just a freak, like me!--)_, straining against the thugs holding him back. The Joker looked over at him, a slight frown marring his features.

"I'm not a freak. They all try calling me that. They just don't get logic- the only way to live in a world this corrupt is _without_ rules. Just ask the Bat how his one rule worked out for him, hmm?" The insane clown ranted. Bruce snarled at the jab towards Batman.

"You're crazy!" He snarled, outraged. At this, the Joker lunged forward, pulling up his knife so that it dug a little way into Bruce's neck.

"No. I'm. _Not._" This was the only time that Bruce had seen the Joker as angry, as Batman _or_ Bruce Wayne. His instincts ordered him to recoil, which he did. Quickly.

"You know _what_?" The Joker breathed, his rotten breath assaulting Bruce's nose.

"I think I should give Gotham another _wake up call_. They're spent the past _year_ chasing their protector. Maybe I should show them who they should really _fear._ Inspire a little _chaos_." With the final word in his little speech, the Joker took the small blade and drove it to Bruce's abdomen, causing blood to bloom out of his shirt(--_red lights flashing, red spreading over the pavement, red on Mother's pearls--)_ painting red flowers on the starch white of his shirt. The vigilante groaned as the Joker kicked him for added measure. The freak turned back to his minions, motioning for them to release the injured billionaire. They complied by shoving him to the ground roughly. Bruce curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his midsection in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Only vaguely recognizing that the thugs had left, and that there were sirens in the distance (_loud_ sirens), the semi-delirious vigilante sat slumped, shaking with silent laughter (He's not insane). It's just so_ ironic_…so _cliché._ That was exactly how his parents died (maybe he should stay away from the theatre), and it was just so _funny._ So he laughed as blood, like precious rubes, spilled out of him.

But soon after that, he just sat in the alley, dazed, staring off into the night sky. When his mind took in the fact that it was dark, he absentmindedly thought that he should be putting on his cape and cowl right then (he should be fighting the _Joker_. He laughed again). He never really took stock of the fact that the sirens were growing closer(_--getting too loud- it was too quiet--)_. He sat, deep in thought about the fact that he'd always thought that he'd die as Batman, not playboy Bruce Wayne. The sirens are even closer, blue and red lights flashing (_--red- red smile, red alley, red pearls--)_ at the entrance of the alley, screeching to a halt only meters away from the semi-lucid billionaire. He didn't really notice. At least, not until one of the cops got in his face. Being all but completely out of it, his alter ego's instincts took over, and he lashed out, vehemently kicking the cop from his position slumped against the wall.

"Holy crap!" One of the men, probably a rookie, shouted, leaping out of the way.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Who _is_ it?"

"Somebody call the Commish!" another said, and Bruce dimly heard someone run to a squad car. There was a burst of static before someone started talking into the black radio, asking for the Commissioner to be called down to the alley (_--Gordon-one man…--)_ behind Gotham Theatre. Bruce only stared at the sky as three more squad cars pulled up. One of the cops started talking to someone, and the vigilante vaguely recognized the other voice from somewhere. There were soft footsteps approaching him, but Bruce didn't bother to look up and someone crouched down beside him.

"Sir?" The person asked, and Bruce whipped his head up.

"Gordon?" he rasped, eyes unfocused.

"Mr. Wayne?" the head cop asked, shocked beyond surprise. Bruce nodded weakly, and his head tilted to the side.

"When did you get here?" Subconsciously, Bruce was using his Batman voice, because he wasn't used to talking to the Commissioner as Bruce Wayne. Gordon started visibly before calming down.

"A few minutes ago. Mr. Wayne, we need to get you to a hospital." Bruce's immediate reaction was to say 'No hospital,'(_--his father's hospital, sitting on the bench, listening to the heartbeat--)_ but somehow it would seem suspicious.

"Why?"(Couldn't he just go home to Alfred?) Gordon looked confused, and a little worried.

"Mr. Wayne, you're bleeding out all over the street(_--just like another night--)_! Were you knifed, or shot, or something else?" Bruce raised a finger, indicating the first one. (How come the Commissioner was so smart?)

"Who did it?" The Commissioner asked, bending down a little closer.

"It was the Joker, Gordon. I had him locked up. He was in Arkham. Gordon, how did he escape?" (Where was he now, attacking some innocent civilian?). There was such a pleading, lost look in Bruce's eyes that the Commissioner wished he'd had an answer. But his attention was caught on the first part of the sentence.

"What do you mean you caught the Joker?" he asked softly. Bruce looked up at him like _he_ was the delirious one.

"You were there!" (He had been, hadn't he? It was too hard to remember that night right then.)

"Where?!" The Commissioner asked desperately.

"At the Prewitt building. I left that freak hanging by his ankle sixty stories off the ground." As Gordon took in all that he was saying, his mind calculated this new information with all of the other information he had gleaned over the past years and, bingo, his mind produced an answer. It was unbelievable, but an answer.

"Batman?" the name was scarcely above a whisper. The billionaire he was talking to raised his eyebrows.

"Ding ding ding! Tell the man what he's won!" He exclaimed sarcastically (The Commissioner should have figured it out earlier.)

"All this time?"

"Obviously."

"But…what happens with all of those injuries you get? Who takes care of those?!" Gordon asked, incredulous.

"Alfred."(_--know your limits. Batman has no limits--)_ The billionaire stated simply. Gordon vaguely remembered an old British man who had come to pick up Wayne when he'd been at the police station after his parents were murdered.

"Gordon." The weak rasp brought Gordon out of his musings.

"Yeah?"

"Gordon, I can't keep doing this,"(He couldn't…right?) Bruce said, and Gordon knew by looking into his eyes that the billionaire believed it.

"Yes you can. You went through that whole Joker thing. We can't have you quit now when he's about to attack again. Besides, when you survive this, you'll scare him." (Like you could _scare_ someone like _that._)

"But first, we need to get you into the ambulance." Bruce nodded like a five year old and allowed the Commissioner to help him to his feet.(It hurt, but better not let the Commish know that) Immediately, two other cops(_--cops, pulling him away-MOM! DAD!--)_ rushed forward to help him. Finally, they managed to stumble towards the ambulance and lay Bruce down on the gurney without causing him too much lifted the stretched into the little metal box (_--dark well, bats screeching, Why do we fall?--)_ and drove off.

Bruce drifted to sleep listening to the continous beeping and the yells of several medics (_--You can't give in! You can't!--)_

.


	2. Freak Outs for the Freak

**A/N: HELLO! I'm not doing homework, because it's boring, and I only have to read it, so I can do that before I go to sleep. No, I've already finished it. Instead, I'm putting this together! I hope you enjoy my cutting time out for this…JK, I'd soooo do this anyway.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything related to the BATMAN universe. DC Comics does though.**

Waking up in a hospital with an annoying, and unfortunately consistent beeping sound was not the way Bruce wanted to wake up. Nor was the feeling of being unable to breathe. He groaned, and twisted over to slam a muscled arm on what he expected to be an alarm clock, but instead was the edge of a table. He blinked open his eyes blearily as he tried to find the clock to shut it off. Then the enormity of what just happened hit him.

He'd woken up!

He honestly hadn't expected to-not after the stab wound the Joker had given him_(--let's give Gotham a little wake-up call!--)_ He looked around his surroundings immediately, reminder ringing in his ears(_--will you never learn to mind your surrounding?!--)_. Turned out, the beeping noise was the heart monitor, and the reason he was unable to breathe fell to the bandages wrapped tightly around his chest, and the tube running down his throat.

Never one for doing things rationally (_--know your limits, Master Wayne--)_ he immediately ripped out the tube, wincing a little at how uncomfortable it felt, but overall satisfied at the fact that he could breathe somewhat normally again.

Of course, that was ruined by the alarms that went off as soon as the tube was away from his throat. He jumped a foot in the air, and leapt from the bed, immediately putting his back to the wall and pulling into a defensive stance. He nearly broke through the window he was backed against when three nurses and a doctor raced through the door. He braced himself against the wall, unfamiliar with all of them, his mind still favoring his Batman persona. The nurses looked confused, and kept edging for him, but the doctor was only reading the vital signs from the machines.

He looked bemused, looking from Bruce to the machines to the nurses and back again (_--but then again, isn't this all, uh, fi-mil-iar?--)_. Bruce kept backing into the corner of the room, his vigilante self telling him that the four people meant danger. The doctor finally figured it out-

"Juliet! Alice, Lilly, back away slowly-he's having a case of PTSD. It should end soon, but…"he thought for a minute before saying: " Alice, call Mr. Pennyworth. And Commissioner Gordon while you're at it. Tell them to come down." All three of the nurses did as told, the blonde on called Alice breaking away from the two brunets to call the requested people. Bruce was still backed skittishly in the corner, fists raised. The doctor approached, but merely sat on the bed, watching Bruce not unkindly.

After a few moments of uncomfortable staring, Bruce slowly stood up, fists still clenched tightly, eyes sill watching the wearily, he slowly lowered his arms.

"Who are you?" he asked, glaring at the man. The doctor looked back at Bruce, and smiled softly.

"Hello Bruce, I'm Dr. Bateman, and no, I'm not related to Batman, as much as I'd like to be." The comment intrigued Bruce, and he took a hesitant step forward.

"What do you mean?" The doctor smiled as he saw Bruce step forward.

"Well, what do you think, Bruce? Batman just woke up one day, and said, 'hum, I think I'll kill some people today?' I was the physician for one of the cops in that car chase, Mr. Wayne. If Batman didn't kill the Joker, what makes you think he'd kill good cops?" Bruce didn't reply, opting instead for slumping on the arm of one of the hospital chairs, fiddling with the drawstring of the flannel pajama pants he was wearing.

Wait. Pajama pants?! And a white undershirt?! These were his! When did he get those?!

And all of a sudden, the feeling of helplessness overwhelmed again (_--couldn't help them, couldn't save them-all my fault, my fault, myfaultmyfault--)_ Bruce let out a cry and fell back into chair, clutching at his hair and growling (_--it was my fault Alfred, all my fault!--)_ . And when the doctor tried to place a hand on his shoulder, Bruce flinched away. He didn't really like getting touched or hugged-just wasn't the type, he supposed. But in this state of mind, he was completely unnerved by it.

Dr. Bateman sighed, and decided to let Bruce alone. His silence was rewarded several minutes later with Bruce slowly dropping his hands and lifting watery eyes to look at the doctor.

They sat like that for several more minutes, until a commotion came from outside. Bruce immediately leapt up, eyes once again bright with anger, and a hint of fear. The door opened, and Bruce skittered away from it, before seeing Alfred walk in, and his heart stopped beating like a bird trapped in a cage at the sight of the older man. His arms lowered once again, revealing eyes that held pain and fear and sadness. Alfred was about to speak, but then the Commissioner walked in.

It wasn't Gordon fault, but Bruce's brain immediately linked Gordon to _both _nights(_-- it's alright, son. But they're still DEAD!--)_ in the stupid alleyway (_--Got a bit of a tem-per, don't we, Mr. Wayne?--)_, and the theatre (_--black actors climbing up black ropes, black bats attacking him, black everywhere)_ the Joker (_--You're gonna have to play my little game if you wanna save one of them--)_ and therefore Rachel (_-- you can't ask me to wait for that Bruce, BOOM! NO!--)_, and later Harvey (_--why was it me who lost everything?!...It wasn't--)_ and back to the opera, a continuous loop of one horror filled image after the other (_--red littering the alley way, red on Mother's pearls, red in the Joker's smile, red on Harvey's face, Red like Rachel's dress, all of it-my fault- my fault, myfault--) _and it all became too much.

The world spun as Bruce fainted, falling into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness.

**A/N: No, I don't know that much about PTSD, I was guessing at most of that. I hope it was realistic for you, and not too rambly. Your opinion matters! So review to tell me how I did? Sorry if it's too short, the next will be longer, promise!**

**Thx!**

**TOAS**


	3. Attacks on the Avenger

**A/N: Here's your next chapter. I hope you like. **

**Warning: This chappie does contain a few dark thoughts (no death thoughts, I don't write that-ever) but Bruce gets angry.**

**Disclaimer: DC Comics owns everything Batman related.**

Attacks on the Avenger

Bruce had decided that he didn't like waking up in hospitals (_--his father's hospital, with all the workers--)_. It isn't fun being cooped up with no way out (_--falling down the well, bats everywhere, why do we fall?--)_ He'd much rather be on the roof, where he can see everything in his city, where he can protect it. Because if something happened when he wasn't looking (_--Rachel in the building, fire everywhere, my fault--)_ he didn't like how it ended. Now the only thing he could see was the white walls and the white sheets and the white equipment and the white blinds and Gordon.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, what? Backtrack, Gordon? He looked back at the cop who was currently slumped over in the uncomfortable hospital chair, glasses askew and coat hanging off of him. Gordon…why was he here? Bruce frowned as he tried to push away the fog that seemed to be covering his brain. And then what had happened the last night flashed though his head again (_--the alley, the theatre, the Joker, his parents, the gun…or was it a knife? He couldn't remember, but…red everywhere, red on everything, on the knife, on the shirt, on the pearls…). _He was hyper-ventilating, breath coming in short gasps as he relived everything (_Rachel smiling at him as he left, his parents smiling at him on the way out the theatre, The Joker's eternal smile, the Joker stabbing him, the Joker killing Rachel, The Joker killing everyone!--) ._

He felt something touch his shoulder (--_a hand grabbing his shoulder, twisting him around- this is just too good!--),_ and jumped out of his skin, shooting up in the bed to twist around. Gordon had his hand on Bruce's shoulder, looking at the billionaire with a mixed expression of worry and guilt etched on his face. Bruce calmed a little, his heart lowering from a bird trapped in a cage with a cat pawing at it to just a bid trapped in a cage.

"Easy there, Bruce, easy," The commissioner warned, patting him in the shoulder as the vigilante slumped back on the pillows.

"Gordon?" he rasped, wincing at how raw his throat was _(--tube running down his throat, choking him, can't breathe, alarms everywhere!--)_. He looked around the room again, desperate to see anything but white or red. But no such luck-even the sky outside the window showed the blood red of sunset(_--red on the floor, red on the smile, red on the pearls, red on the shirt, red on the suit, red, red, red--)_. He flinched away from the sight, instead opting to look back at Gordon. The cop smiled (_--at least there weren't scars--)_.

"You've been here two days, Mr. Wayne," he said. Bruce's eyes widened-two days?!

"How…how bad is it?" he almost didn't want to hear the answer.

"Bad. The Joker managed to hit your lung, and it started to collapse. You went into surgery for a few hours, and then they doped you up to sleep. The doctor left you alone, but apparently, you pulled out the tube that was helping you breathe, and the alarms went off. The doctors rushed in and you were pressed against the wall like you were terrified of something. Then, the doctor figured out you had PTSD, based on your elevated heart rate. He managed to calm you down somewhat, but then something happened, and just as I walked in you started freaking out. You fainted- Bruce…you nearly died. Your heart was beating too fast. But Alfred said something, and you calmed down a little. You'd been sleeping since I came in the first time. We took shifts, but Alfred looked like he was about to pass out from worrying, so I sent him back to your house." Bruce winced at the thought of his elderly, mother-hen butler worried sick about him. He coughed, his throat feeling rough. Gordon looked over at him in sympathy.

"Do you want some water?" he asked, and Bruce nodded like a five year old. Gordon smiled a little.

"I would too, after all that yelling you did." The vigilante scowled.

"Yelling?" he asked hoarsely, feeling a tickle at the back of his throat(_--Harvey yelling at him, Rachel scorning him, Ras shouting at him, Gordon screaming after him-too much noise!--)_. Gordon winced visibly.

"I forgot. You woke up screaming around two in the morning, scared the nurse senseless. I don't want to know what you dream about." Bruce thought about responding (--_alleys and gunshots and red and flashing lights and people screaming and fire everywhere and psychotic laughter and clowns and his parents and Harvey and Rachel-all of them, dead!--)_ but it would horrify any living person. Gordon stood up, pulling his coat back up and headed for the door. Bruce was about to ask him where he was going (_--too many people left- his parents, his friends, his girlfriends, his teachers, Rachel, all of the people he'd ever loved--)_ but then remembered what had started the conversation: water.

As Gordon left, a nurse came in, bustling around the cop with a mutter 'scuse me, Co-missioner', and hurried over to the machines surrounding Bruce. He didn't pay the bright red head much mind until she wandered over to the door and locked it shut with a 'click'. He immediately whipped his head up (_--no way out- of the well, or his life, of the room, trapped!--)_ in time to see her rip off the wig and the hospital mask, revealing stringy green hair, black coated eyes, and white face and red scars (_--red on the pearls, red in Rachel's dress, red on his coat, red in the alley, red on the smile, red, red, red red redredredred--). _

He snarled as the Joker turned back to him, smiling at him with hideous scars. Bruce leapt from the bed, yanking the cords away as they hindered his goal to get as far away from the freak as possible.

"What are you doing here?!" What should have come out as a yell merely came out as a hoarse whisper. The Joker laughed a jerking, throaty laugh.

"I can't come see my favorite billionaire, the Prince of Gotham just to tell him 'Get Well Soon'?" he asked, and laughed again, pulling a knife (_--a knife, going between his ribs, a knife against his throat, a knife hitting his stomach in a burning house, his house burning down, fire, fire everywhere--)_ out of the pocket in the hospital jacket. He flicked it open, and took another step forward.

"I just wanted to share my…_gratitude_…for your survival. You see, I've figured out you and the Bats are _real_ close. And if I get you, he should come running. So I'm gonna leave a little message for Bats, and _you're_ gonna give it to 'im." The clown reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper with the word _Batsy_ scrawled across it carelessly. He tossed it at Bruce, before looking out through the window into the parking lot. He smiled.

"Oh look! There goes your butler! I haven't met him yet…"

Bruce snapped. He roared as he lunged for the Joker, memories flashing through his mind (_--Didn't Mommy and Daddy die behind a theater too?...save one of them…You're gonna break you're one rule! Got a bit of a temper, don't we? Does Harvey know about you and his little bunny?... You're just a freak, like me! Nothing you can do…--)_. He knew it was the Joker's fault for everything (_--bang! And his parent are gone. Bang and Gordon's dead, Boom and the Judge is dead, Bang and Rachel's dead, dead, dead, all of them: dead!--)_ and he was lunging at the Joker, swinging fists at him and kicking him and just trying to kill the little freak who had caused him so much pain. He didn't feel the punches the Joker gave him, didn't feel the knife cut hit his arm, didn't feel the cold held against his neck until the Joker grabbed an arm, twisting it around his back until he was incapacitated. The Joker spun him to face the door.

Bruce kept fighting (_--Pick ourselves back up, back up, back up, Mind your surroundings! Endure, Master Wayne--) ._ And then he saw Gordon at the door, gun drawn and pointing at the Bruce. (_--gun held up to his parents, bang! Bang! Red everywhere!--)_ But, no, not aimed at Bruce. Aimed at the Joker. But Bruce was in between. And the Joker was pressing something to his neck. It was cold. Round. Metal. Another gun. There was a pause as everyone looked at everyone, there were doctors yelling in the background, nurses running everywhere, police sirens wailing outside, but the three people in Bruce's hospital room were completely alone-the only ones in the world. The Joker spoke first.

"I don't want to kill anybody today, Gordo. But I will. So put your gun down, or I pump Gotham's Prince full of lead!" Gordon hesitated, eyes locked with Wayne who was silently begging Gordon to just shoot the Joker. But there was still the chance that Gordon would hit Bruce-_Batman_, so Bruce had to watch as Gordon put the gun down.

Bruce was expecting the sound of a gunshot-expecting the Joker to shoot Gordon, but he didn't. He simply kicked the gun to the far side of the room, and bent his head down to Bruce's ear.

"Remember Brucey, give my message to Bats." There was a sudden loss of pressure on his neck, but then his head was hit hard.

He never even felt himself hit the floor.

**A/N: Well, I hope you liked that! I might get the next chappie up tomorrow, or something like that, or update Playing a game…not sure yet. But no, Bruce isn't going to lose it, and the only person who might die is the Joker.**

**THX!**

**Lots of Love**

**TOAS**


	4. Tears for a Tragedy

**A/N. Here you guy go! Sorry it took so long to update, but you know…**_**life**_**… But you have it now…**

**DISCLAIMER: I'm tired, so this'll be simple-don't own Batman…DC Comics does.**

Bruce decided should stop waking up in hospitals after he woke up for the third time in the same room (_--just like when he was in that prison in Tibet, no one was there--)_. He ever remembered why he was there (_--a smile walking up to him, gleaming metal, bright red and then black, and then white everywhere and then red again. Too many reminders--). _So when Bruce looked around the bright white room, he looked around with disgust. He was practically trapped in here, with all of the doctors wandering the halls and the nurses stationed on every floor (_--like the guards who were supposed to protect guests from the Joker at the fundraiser-he didn't use that company again--). _The only good thing was that Alfred was with him-he could keep an eye on his old butler, the Joker's reaction to seeing him echoing through his head (_--I haven't met him yet...--)_.

Said butler was currently slumped forward on the foot of the bed, sound asleep. Bruce didn't have the heart to wake him up and let him stay, eyes instead wandering over to the letter the Joker had handed him when he'd come by for the _visit_. Huffing in annoyance at his own curiosity (_Curiosity killed the cat, Bruce--). _He reached across to the side table and picked up the letter addressed to _Batsy_. Wearily pulling it closer, he opened it slowly and read the words scrawled haphazardly across the wrinkled paper.

**__****HELLO****__****B**_ats!_  
_Nice to...talk...to ya again! I've missed ya Buddy! When are you gonna come see me again??? I'm SURE you've seen the _**__****R**_eports on the news about Br_**__****U**_cie and the hospital...they haven't moved him, ya know? So, unless you want him DEAD, you'll meet me down by _**__****C**_rime Alley, right where I stabb_**__****E**_d that idiot billionaire. _  
_And just for a l_**__****I**_ttle motivation..._  
_I've rigged the MCU to go _**__****K**_a-boom! I have the deta_**__****N**_ator- that's the _**__****O**_nly thing that's stopping it-there's no off s_**__****W**_itch. Once I turn it on-BOOM! Gordo and his buddies get blown sk_**__****Y**_ high._  
_S_**__****O****__****U**_nless you want the g_**__****R**_and Police Commis_**__****S**_ioner AND th_**__****E**_ rich Prin_**__****C**_e of Gotham dead, you'll meet me in C_**__****R**_ime Alley at 11:30. Monday night. _  
_G'by_**__****E****__**_Bats!_  
_You're favori_**__****T**_e freak-_  
_JOKER_

Bruce froze in his bed (_--Gordo and his buddies get blown sky high!--)_, rereading the letter over and over and over and over and over and over and-

"Master Wayne?" The voice shocked him right he and Gordon died. He jerked his head up to stare at his long-time friend and butler.

"Alfred...how long have you been here?" The old butler sighed, and moved his chair closer to his ward." I got here just after the Joker left. Apparently, no one tried to stop him...he'd wired your room, Master Wayne." (_--the buildings that were wired, the phone that was wired, his _life_ that was wired--)_.

"Oh." was the only thing that came out of his mouth. He couldn't find anything to say (_--Can't...change the world on your own! Well, what choice do I have? And you're too busy…swimming -he hadn't been able to say anything that night--)_. The sat in companionable silence, before Alfred noticed the letter in Bruce's hand. Noticed the slight tremors that ran up his hand, his clenched jaw.

"Master Wayne…what's that?" Bruce looked down at the letter (_--unless you want the grand police commissioner AND the right Prince of Gotham DEAD--)_. Bruce followed his eyes, and wordlessly handed him the letter, watching his face as he read it. Because he was looking, he saw the surprise, pity and shock cross his butler's face. He looked away as soon as Alfred looked up, pretending to look at the sunshine outside the window, seemingly mocking the dreary atmosphere in the white hospital room (_--sunshine, the day Gordon 'died', sunshine, the morning of Rachel's funeral. Sunshine, the morning before his parent's were murdered…rain, the day they were buried.--)_ It seemed his whole life was just a big contradiction. He was shaking his head, increasing speed until Alfred stopped him, and he howled.

"**CRAP!**" He roared it so loudly that several nurses turned to look at the now-slumped-over billionaire who was collapsed over is knees on the stark white hospital bed. Alfred placed a hand consolingly on his shoulder, wincing in sympathy as the billionaire was wracked with silent sobs. Even in his time of misery, he stalled real expressions.

"Alfred-it was _all. My. Fault_. Everything! Everything-Rachel, Harvey, my parents, Gordon, all of those cops-everything, Alfred, EVERYTHING! And now the Joker's out again, and I can't save anyone since I'm stuck in this white room, and all of that red is out there, and I can't stop it, can't save it, like I can't save ANYTHING…" and with that, the tears finally came. Tears that wouldn't come when his parents had died, tears that couldn't come when Gordon, one of his 'close' friends, died, tears that wouldn't come when _Rachel_ died. Tears that would never come again after this moment. And so Bruce cried long and hard, the whole time Alfred was patting his back, offering support in the only way he could.

Eventually, his tears stopped, and he ran a hand roughly over his eyes, drying the wet streaks on his face so quickly you could imagine they weren't there, apart from the tell-tale stains on his shirt and the sheets. A mumbled "Sorry, Alfred," came from beneath the folded arms, on which the billionaire's head was now perched on top of his knees. Alfred smiled softly, before rubbing his back comfortingly.

"For what, Master Wayne?" A brief chuckle came from beneath arms that were blocking a young face, and Alfred knew Bruce was starting to get back to normal-not that he would ever be the same again (no one could, after the Joker…most of Bruce's natural good humor had been ruined because of him…but if Bruce was genuinely chuckling…that meant something), but they were getting somewhere-past all of the deaths, the losses, the heartbreaks, the lies-they were getting rid of them like getting rid of the scary monsters under a child's bed-it would take time for the child to believe it was really gone, but eventually….

For now, Alfred would have to deal with Bruce's adventures, and help him through everything. Bruce smiled thinly when Alfred asked-

"So…Crime Alley. Are you going?"

**A/N. Sooo! Here you go-I think this'll only be one or two more chappies long…if you have any questions on anything I've written, don't hesitate to review and ask me, and I'll try to PM you. **

**You can replace that bolded CRAP with whatever you want- I won't ever cuss, so just fill in what you want.**

**I'll probably be updating Tragedy, for any of you who read both of these….**

**For those of you reading Playing a Game, I'm going to finish this up before finishing that, and then I'll probably be having stalls between that and Tragedy, so I probably won't update every other day….**

**BUT PLEASE REVIEW! I'd like to know what you guys think…I won't update the next chapter until I get 2 reviews………… So REVIEW!**

**THX!**

**TOAS**


	5. Smiles for the Sorrowful

**A/N. Well, this is ironic-Playing a game was supposed to be the long one, and now, I've updated more on this…lol. So, would anyone like to Beta next chapter? Review or PM me and I'll try to get back to you.**

**DISCLAIMER: DC Comics owns this…Do I look like DC Comics? For those of you who can't see me…I DON'T!**

Bruce smiled, looking over at his long time friend (_--you were gone seven years…--)_.

"You haven't given up on me."_(--The Wayne legacy is more than just bricks and mortar, sir--)_ Alfred grinned softly before saying the word Bruce needed to hear.

"Never." Looking back down at the letter, Bruce's eyes picked out the bolded letters. It seemed somewhat random, the only whole word that was bolded being **Hello**. Alfred looked at it too and then back at Bruce.

"You don't think it spells something out, do you?"(--_We burned the whole forest down--)_ Bruce replied with a question.

"Do you have a pen?" Alfred wordlessly handed Bruce a pen, and the next few seconds were spent in silence as Bruce wrote down letters. When he was done, he froze for a few seconds (_--he was frozen when he found Harvey, frozen when his parents died, frozen when Gordon died, always frozen in time--)_. Alfred leaned over and read the message printed out neatly.

**HELLO BRUCE. I KOW YOUR SECRET.**

Neither of them spoke, each sitting in stunned silence at the meaning of the words (_--silence that should be sound. Sound when his parents died, sound when Rachel died, sound when Ras died, sound when everyone died--)_. The stillness was broken when the door opened, revealing Jim Gordon, dressed in his usual MCU jacket and glasses. The cop balked a bit at seeing that Bruce was awake (_--how long have I been out?--)_, but shook himself slightly and marched in, smiling warmly at Bruce.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne." (--_it's Mister Wayne, isn't it? You don't watch a lot of news, do you, Mr. Wayne? Fwhoom! And the hospital's gone--)_. Bruce smiled stiffly at the man, but years of practicing the art of hiding expressions has made the false smile look true (_--no, this is you mask. Your real face is the one the criminals all fear. The man I loved…he never really came back…--)_. So it was with a placated mind that Gordon sat down next to the butler. He glanced down at the letter clenched it the butler's fist, and the small scrap of paper barely supported in Bruce's slack grasp and flashed as look back at Bruce, taking note of the pained eyes and sorrowful expression.

"Whadda you have there, Mr. Wayne?" Bruce glanced, panicked, at Alfred and then back at Gordon, mind thinking at the speed of light (--_now, we're two--)_ before he decided to trust the man. Hadn't he already revealed his secret? Or had that all been a dream too? Was he just pretending? Again. (_--pretending that his parent's death had all been a dream. Pretending he didn't have limits, that he couldn't be hurt. Pretending that he could save Harvey. Pretending like he got to Rachel in time. All in his dreams--)_. He held the note out to Gordon after gesturing for Alfred to hand Gordon the message. With a small bit of reluctance, Alfred handed over the letter, and the two civilians watched as the police Commissioner read it over, before shuffling papers to read the one sentence. His gaze flickered up towards Bruce as his mouth opened slightly in shock.

"How did he figure it out?" (--_figure out what? That he loved Rachel? That he should make him choose which one to save? That he would go to the theatre? That he was Batman? How did he figure out anything?--)_ Bruce shrugged.

"How he figures anything out I suppose…" the billionaire rasped out, and Gordon winced before nodding.

"What are you going to do?" (_--it's not who I am underneath, but what I _do_ that defines me…She still couldn't love him--)_

"What I have to." Gordon started shaking his head much like Bruce had earlier.

"No. You're already injured. I'm not about to let you go out there and get killed! Somebody will see and call my unit, and then you'll get shot! By one of my own men!" Bruce looked up at the Commissioner, smiling hollowly.

"I don't think you'd let that happen, Commissioner. Besides, it isn't really your choice to make, is it?" The vigilante noticed Alfred sigh in the corner, and immediately felt guilty for appearing cut off. But he couldn't help it. (_--just like he couldn't help his parents. Couldn't help Harvey. Couldn't help Rachel. Couldn't help Gordon. Couldn't help anyone!--)_ Gordon looked at Alfred pleadingly, but the butler merely shook his head sadly.

"I couldn't tell him what to do when he was a child. He definitely won't listen to me now…" Bruce smirked a little, before looking back outside. The sky had clouded over, and as Bruce watched, tiny rain droplets hit the window, creating a picture of sorts. Too bad it looked like a smile (_--a smile adorning the face of the fake Batman. The smile Rachel flashed him the last time he saw her alive. The smile Harvey always wore, a smile that came out of the dark and stabbed him, a smile that killed those cops, a smile, smile, smile, smilesmilesmile--)_ Bruce grabbed the thing nearest to him ( which happened to be an IV pole) and threw it out the window, watching it shatter the thin glass. Gordon looked over at him in shock, mouth dropped open wide. Alfred jumped to his feet, striding over to the young man who was slumped over, grasping his hair with his hands as he tried to get all of the bad memories out of his head (--_meaning his whole life, which was just one big bad memory.--)_.

"Master Bruce, what's wrong?" Bruce looked out the shattered window, ignoring the now pounding rain that was coming in the window, soaking his sheets and the doctor that came rushing in from the sound of breaking glass. The billionaire looked up at Alfred with pain, sorrow- and was that a little bit of _fear_ in those dark brown eyes?

"It smiled at me."

**A/N. Well, that one was kinda rambly…. My muse had been pretty quiet, and my plot bunny's plan stopped last chapter… Any ideas??? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?**

**Plz Review!**

**Thx-**

**TOAS**


	6. Journeys for the Jaded

**A/N. so, I find myself once again in need of advice, which was sadly lacking from the last chapter. Any ideas?**

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own bats. DC Comics gets those bragging rights. *sigh***

After the smiling incident, the occupants of the room tried not to remind the distraught billionaire of the Joker (_--but how do you keep a memory like that out of someone's mind? Freak like me, freak like me, freak like me….--)_. Alfred made sure none of the doctors came in, and Bruce stayed on his bed, looking out the shattered window at the rain soaked streets (_--rain soaked grass outside of a cemetery that held the bodies of all of his loved ones--). _No one was allowed to come in and fix the window so the confused billionaire was content to sit on the bed while getting soaked with pellets of rain. There were already multiple towels lining the floor, and they had thoroughly soaked through. Alfred was layered with several jackets, and the Commissioner was seated in the far corner, blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a cup of warm coffee cupped in his hands.

The person who had broken the window was seated cross legged on the haphazardly made bed, black sweat pants and white undershirt, somehow remaining mostly dry(_--the only good thing fate had decided to deal him--)_ clinging to his still form as he stared absent mindedly outside the window. Sleep-mussed hair hung in front of empty brown eyes, and Gordon couldn't help but shudder at the depths of jadedness hidden in the darkness of his eyes. Those were the eyes of someone who had given up looking for any hope in his own life (_--that wasn't surprising, who wouldn't end up changed-the only one who lost everything!--)._ An inaudible sigh escaped the billionaire as he glanced at the bright red numbers staring up at him from the clock that was hidden by countless flowers, from people he would never know or care to. It was nearly time to meet the Joker (_--in a dark alleyway, behind a theatre, with a knife, a gun, red, redred--)_. Alfred looked up from where he had started to doze off as Bruce slipped off of the bed, bare feet silent on the damp towels as he headed for the door. Gordon watched the curious man silently, observing rather than interrogating.

"Where are you going, Master Wayne?" The vigilante looked over at his butler, and a small smile started on his lips and snuck into his eyes.

"I have an appointment I need to attend. An image to keep, you know." And with that, the pajama clad billionaire exited the room, closely followed by the Commissioner and Alfred, who had moved from their seats as soon as Bruce opened the door. Doctors stared as the oddly dressed billionaire strode out of the hospital, not bothering to check out, and into the rain. Alfred and Gordon glanced at each other before following, worried that Bruce would get hurt. Or mugged. (Not that they were worried about Bruce-more that he would seriously injure the attacker in the state of mind he was in.)

The garage was thankfully sheltered from the onslaught of rain pounding down upon them, and the duo following Bruce watched at their prey shook his hair like a dog and headed right for his Lamborghini. Gordon broke off and climbed into his old Sedan, revving up the trusty engine. Bruce started for the driver's side, but Alfred quickly intervened.

"I think I should drive, Master Wayne." Bruce shot him a confused glance before nodding in acceptance and swinging around to the passenger side door. The butler nodded at Gordon from over the roof of the sleek sports car before climbing in and starting up the powerful motor. There was a vicious roar from the engine, and Alfred back out, glancing every now and then at Bruce, who was staring out the window moodily. Hopefully, the raindrops wouldn't smile again.

Bruce was too busy watching Gotham flash by to notice Alfred's worried stares, and as he watched, the clouds seemed to darken, preparing for the imminent battle that was to come (_--for some reason, it felt like this was important- I took Gotham's White Knight, and I brought him down to OUR level…his level--)_. He barely noticed the asphalt and concrete turn to gavel and forest as Alfred drove him up to Wayne Manor. (_--If I have my way, I'll tear the thing down brick by brick--)_. The lightning cast the sharp edges of the intimidating building into shadows, giving it an air of darkness and foreboding that matched the whole image that surrounded Batman. The fancy sports car rumbled to a halt just outside the front steps, and then stopped, engine cutting off abruptly. There was the sound of tossed gravel, and Bruce found the interest to look out the window and see the Commissioner's car stop behind the Lamborghini (_--the car that was too late to save Rachel-Which one are you going after?...Harvey, apparently. Too late to save Rachel--)_.

Not saying a word, the billionaire led the way into the house, passing the fancy décor and elaborate sculptures, instead headed straight for the library, where he tapped out the code on the piano and stepped into the lift, which was revealed by the opening of the book shelf. Gordon was staring in shock at the advanced gadgetry that surrounded the manor, amazed at how secretive everything was. It took a little nudge to get the cop into the elevator from Alfred, who noticed the smirk (a real, humored smirk) that adorned Bruce's face as he watched the Commissioner's face as they descended into the Bat Cave, as Bruce so fondly called it.

Towering cavern walls soared above him, littered with bats hanging from the ceiling. A few powerful fluorescent lamps lit up a section of the chamber that had been finished off and wired with computers and monitors. The Tumbler was parked in the shadows, as was the Bat-pod, and what looked like a small jet. As soon as Bruce stepped out of the elevator, a cage rose out of the ground, and within it, the Batsuit. Gordon stumbled out, barely registering how the elevator slid smoothly back to its original starting place.

Bruce headed straight for the Kevlar armor, pulling it on over his thin pants and over shirt, methodically strapping on more of his darker side with every piece of protection he placed across his body.(_--like punching in the code to a secret vault, once the door opened, the only thing that would return Bruce Wayne was the light of day--). _The final piece of his armor, the mask, glared up at him, and Bruce stared into the open maw of the creature's mouth before placing it on his head. When the vigilante turned around, he was no longer the smiling, joking billionaire whom everyone was jealous of. He was the cloaked protector of the world's number one crime city, with a deadline.

And he hated himself for it.

**A/N. Sorry if this wasn't what you wanted, but I need your advice if I'm going to keep writing! Action in the Next chapter, I promise!**

**Review! **

**Thx-**

**TOAS**


	7. Lives for the Lost

**A/N. So, I promised you guys action, and I'm gonna give it to ya! Of course, I haven't gotten that good at writing fight scenes, so please stick with me. This chapter is dedicated to Elerrina Star, for reviewing and giving me the inspiration to follow through with this. **

**Star, this is for you.**

**DISCLAIMER: As much as I'd love to own Bruce in all of his adorableness, I can't *sniff*. But DC Comics sure does.**

Screens whirred to life as Bruce watched Alfred turn on all of the computers, moving around methodically to power up all of the frequencies he would need. He passed the Commissioner, who was staring around, still in a state of shock (_--Why did you bring me here?--)_. Striding over to the wall of gadgets, Bruce looked up and down the wall of advanced weaponry before picking up the most basic and old weapons he'd used. A batarang, the pressure gun, and the timed bomb launcher. All of the first weapons Fox had ever invented (_--expecting to run into much gunfire in these caves? Yes, yes I am--)_. After attaching all of the needed weapons, the vigilante that masqueraded as Bruce Wayne walked over towards the Tumbler, ready to jump in and speed off. The keys were literally _in his hand_ when he felt someone grab his shoulder (_--twisting him around and gutting him out, leaving him to die just like his parents--)_. He spun around edgily, fists raised before looking up and seeing a frightened, yet determined Commissioner Gordon. Mentally berating himself (_--the man I loved, he never really came back--)_, he straightened, unknowingly giving himself a more intimidating, silently powerful appearance.

"Yes, Commissioner?" he growled out, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

"I'm coming with you. No-" at this, the cop held up a hand to stop the protest that automatically came to mind, "I don't give a crap whether or not you want me to come, you've just gotten _stabbed_ for heaven's sake. I may not actually participate in the fight, but I'm sure as heck gonna be there to get you out if you need it." The clicking of a computer mouse stilled, and Bruce noticed Alfred had frozen at the computers, not turned around, but still listening.

"Alright." He smirked a little at the surprised expression on his ally's face, turning back to the car and popping open the 'door'. The Commissioner tapped Bruce on the shoulder again, and the vigilante whirred around, growling threateningly.

"I suggest you stop doing that Commissioner." The cold voice, if anything, convinced Gordon that Bruce Wayne was actually Batman. He'd spent the past few days unsure if this was all a dream, but now, seeing the hardenrd will to do almost anything in dark, lost eyes convinced him. He nodded mutely, before waiting as Bruce smoothly leapt into the dark interior of the super car.

Bruce looked around the redesigned inside of the car, taking in all of the advanced buttons and levers that he already knew by heart. He looked up, and saw the Commissioner sanding there, still staring after him. (_--after. Always behind him. Never next to him, or leading him, always just behind him. Waving goodbye--). _Sighing impatiently, he motioned for the cop to come in the car, and waited, watching as the shocked man scrambled to climb in the 'tank'. Waving to Alfred, who was turned around in his chair, he flipped a switch, and the top slid closed. Noting the panicked expression on Gordon's face, Bruce decided to take the easy way out.

Which was through the waterfall.

Smiling in enjoyment, he gunned the throttle, pushing it forward as he steadily gained speed and approached the thundering waterfall. Gordon was pressed all the way back in his seat, gasping a little in surprise as Bruce flipped open a cover and pressed a bright blue button. Flames spluttered out of the back engine, propelling the Tumbler up and through the thousand ton waterfall. It landed with a thud on the other side of the small lake and immediately lunged forward, eating up gavel like no body's business. Eventually, Gordon calmed down, only to tense again as Bruce rounded a corner sharply (_--know your limits, because what's gonna happen on the day that you find out? Death. Death will happen.--)_.

It didn't take long enough to reach the back alley way behind the most infamous theatre in Gotham, and as soon as they approached the dimly lit space, Bruce slid the car into stealth, eyes rolling in the darkness as the Commissioner took an involuntary breath of surprise. The roaring engine was soon cut as Batman parked the beast in the darkest of shadows. Waiting as the roof slid open, he took the time to examine the deserted alley, watching as shadows darkened in some places, as unseen goons flittered around, suspectedly telling their boss that Batman had arrived. Thunder rumbled over head, and the vigilante looked up just in time to feel a rain drop on his eye. Growling in annoyance (_--whoever planned his life made sure that his life was as clichéd as possible--)_, Bruce pulled himself out of his seat, vaulting himself over the side and landing without a sound on the spotted street. Gordon moved to climb out of the modified tank, but Bruce motioned subtly for him to stay in the car (--_stay and don't die. Stay and keep my conscious clean. Stay and live--)_ _._

Gordon ignored the warning and clambered out.

Sighing once again in annoyance, the vigilante motioned for the Commissioner to at least duck behind the massive car. There was a 'shhhink' and Bruce immediately ducked, recognizing the sound as a gun being drawn from a holster. He twisted around to see that it was just Gordon pulling out his semi. Huffing at the distraction, he strode forward, skulking in the shadows until he was on the edge of them, nearly at the door he'd emerged from when his life had ended at age ten. With that, he settled down to wait, occasionally glancing over at Gordon to make sure he hadn't been attacked or anything.

He hadn't.

But all of a sudden a row of fire ignited in front of him. He jumped back, shocked, as he tried to stay within his area of expertise, remaining hidden. (_--remain hidden and stay alive. Keep other people hidden, and keep them alive. Leave them in the open and BOOM! Dead--)_. The fire spread, igniting all along the alley as the glare shone off the damp sides of the building. It was headed straight for Gordon. Looking up, Bruce saw a few goons standing on the rooftops, sprinkling something out of cans down to mix with the rain that had increased in power. _Gasoline_. There was nothing Bruce could do to stop the goons from sprinkling the fuel, but Gordon…

The black clad man ducked down to the level of the flames and ran along them until he reached the fireproof exoskeleton of the Tumbler, he grabbed Gordon by the shoulder, who was staring in shock at the roaring inferno, which had only grown in size.

"Gordon!" the growled name pulled the Commissioner out of his stupor, and he looked at the unnaturally calm eyes of the city's hero.

"The men on the roof are pouring gasoline on the street! I need you to go up there, and take them out." (--_we sacked Rome, loaded trade ships with plague rats, __**burned **__London to the ground…If Coleman Reese isn't dead in sixty minutes, I BLOW UP a hospital_--). He conveyed with his eyes how important it was that the gasoline stop falling. If it continued, the whole alley would go up in flames and then spread. Gordon nodded, and took off, shouldering open one of the doors so that he could scale the stairs hidden within. Turning back to the roaring inferno, Batman reached into a pouch contained on his utility belt, and pulled out a fine white powder. Tossing it around a little, he faced the flames and then tossed the dust onto them, watching at the dried powder extinguished the fire quickly. Brue smiled, watching as the last flame fluttered out-Fox never let him down (_--as long as you don't tell me what exactly you're doing Mr. Wayne, when someone asks, I don't have to lie. Just another person he'd roped into his messed-up life--)_.

Ominous clapping rang through the charred alley, and the black shadow pivoted to see the Joker emerging from a side alley, goons flanking him on either side as machine guns locked onto him. (_--machine guns riddling holes into the side of a car--)_. There was a silent standoff between the two counterparts, immovable object and unstoppably force, as the Joker's final clap echoed around the alley, and painted black eyes glared at painted black eyes. (_-just a freak, like ME--)_. The goons started shifting around, restless as their boss continued this wordless battle of wills with their enemy.

One goon got a little too restless, and his finger squeezed a little too hard on the trigger. The echo of gunfire rang around the small alley and everything happened at once. With a twitch of a cape and a drip of blood, Bruce had vanished into deeper shadows. The Joker whirled in the direction of the man with the gun, who was now looking paler that a piece of paper and had a sheen of sweat covering his face and neck as he gulped.

"WHO was _that?_ I sw-_ear_, whoever _shot_ Bats is gonna have their blood used as _paint_ on our next _art project!"_ The Joker screamed, shotgun appearing out of nowhere as he glared around. Thankfully for the poor man's life, Batman decided to choose that moment to leap out of the shadows, a terrifying avenger of the night as he tackled the Joker to the ground. More gunfire echoed through the cramped space as the hired thugs tried to kill Batman, leading to the realization that his armor was bullet proof. They scattered, trying to cover all of the exits so that Bruce couldn't escape.

The Joker screamed out a mirthless laugh (--_oh, and every day he doesn't people will DIE. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my word. Bah-HA HA HA!. But the bridge and tunnel crowd are sure in for a surprise! Maniacal laughter followed the threat. Followed the explosion. Followed DEATH_--) before cocking a fist and punching at Batman's cowl, effectively bruising a few knuckles. A gauntleded arm caught the Joker around the middle, leaving three inch long gashes in his over coast, but only succeeding in bruising the Joker's middle. The clown looked shocked that the bat would think about ripping the famed overcoat.

"That was my FAVORITE COAT!" he shrieked, and swung two clasped fists into the side of Batman's head. Ears ringing from the force of the blow, Bruce staggered back a few steps before using the backwards momentum to spin around and land a heavy kick on the man's chest, forcing the air out of his lungs as he was thrown backwards. No matter how much Batman hated the homicidal maniac, he had to give it to him on a professional level that he could take a hit_(--Pick ourselves back up--)_. Leaping back to his feet, the clown lunged forward, grabbing Bruce around the knees and forcing him to the ground. Instinctvly rolling_(--diving under a swinging blade and grabbing his own, only to find that he had failed--)_, Bruce ducked the powerful fist that would have come down straight on his head, cracking his skull with, or without a graphite cowl(_--might I suggest that you avoid landing on your head?--)_. Kicking out a leg, he swung it around, effectively sending the Joker sprawling to the ground_(--Yeild! You'll never learn to mind you're surroundings-crack!--)_, and leaping up at the same time, only to have his ascent halted by a strangling at his throat(_--slipping an arm around Harvey's throat to keep him silent, the whole time telling Rachel to stay safe. Stay hidden and ALIVE. It hadn't worked--)_

Gargling sounds came from his throat as Bruce realised that the Joker had grabbed his cape and was pulling on it, in an unorthodox way, choking him. Scrambling at the clasps, Bruce lunged forward, pulling the Joker up with him as he tried to get some slack on the hangman's noose. Fate had decided to smile upon him, sending the Joker forward and face first into a mucky puddle that had developed throughout the fight. Shaking his head to clear the black dots impeding on his vision (_shaking, shivering, freezing, wet. Ice cold water surrounding him because he didn't observe his surroundings--), _Bruce stumbled back, before raising a gauntleted arm to black a knife that was aimed directly for his throat.

But he wasn't expecting the knife to angle down and slip in between Kevlar plates; slice through bandages and a scabbing wound to reopen it. Blood oozed out of the newly opened wound as Bruce gasped, stumbling back against the wall to hold his side which was burning white hot in pain (_--almost as hot as the fire that burned down one of his last connections to his parents. Fire that took Rachel. Took the city's only hope. Fire that consumed everything of any value--)._ The wall offered support as Bruce slid down it, vaguely aware of the Joker advancing upon him, spitting out saliva mixed with blood from a busted lip Bruce had given him.

Glazed eyes watched the Joker squat down, so that he was on Batman's level, a shotgun held parallel to the street so that a pumping heart was lined up with the chamber. Black Kevlar would do nothing to stop the powerful blast(_--anything but a straight shot, straight shot. Well, this was a straight shot if he ever saw one--)_.

"I have to say, _Brucie_, this has been quite fun. And while I will _miss_ you, I do think this city needs a new _hero_. I mean, look how _Dent _turned out_(--driven crazy by the ideal that life was supposed to be fair. Bruce's whole life begged to differ--)_. With you out of the way, Gotham will need a new vigilante to protect them_(--Protected them? Who had he actually protected? Rachel, Harvey, Gordon, Alfred, his parents? Ha!--)_. And _I _could fill in for you(_--there were more copycats last night, Alfred. With guns. Maybe you could hire them-take the weekend off--)_. So, it's nothing personal Bats…Well, it is. It's completely personal. You need to go. There can't be two freaks(_--Like ME…they'll cast you out, like a leper!--)_ in this town. No matter how much _fun_ I had, I'm really a loner!" Insane laughter followed.

In an alley behind the most infamous theatre in Gotham, the third gunshot that was delayed all those nights ago finally rang out in the darkened streets of a mourning city.

A dark eyed form stopped breathing after cheating death too many times.

**A/N. Finally! My first real cliffie! I think. Do you guys think it was a cliffie?**

**Review and let me know!**

**Thx-**

**TOAS.**


	8. Crashes for the Crumpled

**A/N. Sorry it's taken so long to get this up. My muse has just been pretty quiet. Jk, I've just been thinkin about how to word this next chapter after the last one…but you'll have to review for the chapter after this.**

Bruce stared wide-eyed, letting lose a gasp of shock as his enemy flew backwards (_--flew over ice and caught a second father--)_ and slammed into the wall, sliding down the brick support, never to move again (_-- no one moved after they got shot--)_. Dark eyes tried to see as five more shots rang out (_--one for Alfred, Rachel, Gordon, Harvey, Fox. He was already dead--)_. Five clowns yelled out in shock and pain, machine guns clattering to the ground as their owners ran, a few limping, all grabbing limbs with blood pumping out of them.

A black cowled head twisted to look along the wall he was slumped against, only to see a dark expanse a few yards away. Gordon stepped out, gun still smoking slightly as he strode forward. A strangled noise escaped Bruce as he steadied himself against the wall before pushing off (--_no need to scare him. He could last…maybe--)_. Heavy boots actually made sound on the ground, rocks instead of soles as rain soaked streets passed below. There was a chink of a gun being holstered, and Gordon met Batman at the Tumbler.

Pressing a button on the utility belt, the top opened up, hydraulics silent as they pushed open the heavy metal.

"Did he get you?" Bruce didn't think when he shook his head: No (_--no, he didn't get me. No, he didn't hurt me. No he didn't ruin my life--)_. Gordon accepted the answer and climbed in, waiting surprisingly, for Batman to climb in after him. (_-- someone was always head of him. Kept getting there first, so that he was too late--)_ Holding his arm tight against his side, he shadowed in, cape whispering across the metal as he sat down, roof immediately closing behind him as he settled behind the dark controls. Vision blacking at the sudden movement, he took a deep breath (_--deep breaths always help. Keep people from knocking the breath out of you when they pull the I-betrayed-you-and-now-I'm-going-to-kill-you card out of their sleeve--)_ and grabbed the controls, backing the tank out of the alley and then tearing off down the street, a black metal machine speeding down the highway as Bruce struggled to regain control of the body that was failing him. Gordon glanced at him worriedly as yet again, Bruce nearly missed the concrete dividers between this side and the other.

For Bruce, it was exceedingly hard to remain upright, let alone control the beast he was inside of. More blood seeped out from between Kevlar plates as he tried to keep the car from the edge of the cliff the road was on. Once again, the blackness came over him, but this time, it didn't leave. Bruce never even knew his head hit the controls, and the car swerved into the thin metal barrier that kept them from plunging down into an abyss.

Gordon yelled out as the vehicle swerved and went over the side, metal barrier equaling the power of a toothpick compared to the Tumbler. Trees crumpled below the weight of the tank as it rolled down the hill. Gordon's head got knocked against the roof, but he pretty much stayed buckled in and unharmed, and was ultimately safe when the Tumbled landed upside down at the bottom of the cliff. He coughed, shaking his head as he remained suspended. Squinting over at Batman, he saw that the man was unconscious. A crackling noise came from somewhere to his right, and he looked over to see a red light blinking on the console. He reached over and pressed it and soon Alfred's voice echoed through the car.

"Hello! Hello, is anyone there?" the British butler asked frantically, and Gordon pressed what looked like the button he used to talk on his police radio.

"Alfred! It's Gordon! Bruce is unconscious! The Tumbler crashed over the edge, and we're at the bottom of the ravine off Highway 53. Can you help?"

"I'll try…"

**A/N. What will happen to Bruce and Gordon? Will Alfred be able to help? Find out in the next chapter! Oh, and check out my two new fanfics for Dark Knight: Gotham as well as The Stars Are Not WAnted**

**Review!**

**Thx-**

**TOAS**


	9. Memories for a Mercenary

**A/N. I'm back! So here comes another chapter, and I can be sure that none of you will expect who shows up in this chapter! **

**DISCLAIMER: DC Comics owns Batman, and for those of you tuning in from your homes, I am not DC Comics, nor do I look like a huge building. **

The only thing Bruce found startlingly odd about how he woke us was the fact that he was upside down (_-or maybe his life had caught up with him, because how could his life not have been turned upside down?-)_. He blinked a little to clear his fuzzy conscious, and when he did, he found that several people were talking. The first voice he recognized was Alfred's (_-Alfred when his parents died, Alfred when Rachel died, Alfred when he got back from Tibet, Alfred when he woke up from being drugged, always Alfred…one day he wouldn't be there-)_, questioning the other person in the Tumbler with him. But who could he have possibly brought along? And then, he recognized the other voice-Gordon (_-Gordon when his parents are bleeding like stuck pigs, Gordon when Rachel's remains are burning in the building. Gordon when the Joker is blowing up ferries, or had they blown up? Gordon when Harvey fell. Gordon when Joker stabbed him. Gordon when the Joker came. Gordon when it smiled. Gordon-). _He shied away when he saw the Commissioner reach forward. (_-Gordon always seemed to bring him bad luck, not unlike a black cat-)_. Bruce looked around, trying to see out of the pitch black of the windows before finding that he already had a vague memory of what happened (_-a gunshot rang through the alley, and the Joker's dead… too much death…and then he's been stabbed and he's in the Tumbler, driving the tank. The car swerves and then…nothing. But he can remember the gunshot.-)_

"Wha-What happened?" his voice was too scratchy for his liking, but maybe that helped the whole vague aura. He shook his head once more to try and get a few more cobwebs out of his head (_-not all, because there were far too many, and sometimes, he didn't want to know what was behind them-)_. Gordon twisted around, wincing as the seatbelt rubbed against his already raw neck to look worriedly at Bruce.

"What do you remember?" he asked hesitantly, and Bruce shrugged (_-because he knew everything. He knew what it felt like to hit rock bottom. He knew heartbreak. He knew terror. He knew rage. He knew everything-)_

"We were fighting, and then you shot the Joker. And then we were driving. The car swerved and then…" he trailed off, and tried once again looking out the window.

"You probably passed out. We went over the edge and started falling. Landed upside down." Bruce nodded, glancing down at the seatbelt that activated whenever the car sensed an impending crash. Something black and velvety obscured his vision, and he started swatted at the material, ignoring Gordon's confused and worried look as he tried to figure out what was encasing him until…

"Oh," Gordon raised an eyebrow at the soft exclamation of understanding.

He'd been attacking his cape.

Whoa was he going.

Huffing in annoyance at himself, he reached up to unlock the seat belt. A loud thump echoed through the cabin as Bruce landed upside down on the roof of the tank.

Yeah, he was really going.

He rubbed his head as well as it could when it was protected by the cowl and glanced up at Gordon, who was looking really worried now. Slowly sitting up against the seat, he let out a breath and prodded his side, wondering what had happened to the gash in his side.

"Does anyone know we're here?" He supposed if he could form relative and coherent sentences then he didn't have a concussion. Gordon nodded.

"Alfred does, and he said he contacted someone to come help us." Bruce glanced around at the blinking radio and sighed before reaching over and pressing the 'talk' button.

"Alfred, who's coming?" he growled, and sat back to wait for the answer.

"Don't worry sir, help already knows who you are." Bruce frowned at the cryptic message. Looking around, he saw a crack spiraling across the front window in a half circle. If there was a crack in it, the window must have been hit hard. And now that it was weakened, it would be fairly simple to smash his way out (_-the window that was smiling at him and he smashed it. Glass shattering, and the sound of rain pounding down on the floor. And now the car was smiling at him-)_. Shaking, Bruce started smashing away at the glass, not stopping even when his foot had cleared all the glass from the frame and was only hitting open air. A small laugh came from his throat. (_-and he was still giggling, even though the psycho was dead. Why was he still haunted? He should be happy-)_ but was halted as soon as he realized what was happening. He was going crazy! Because he was alone. Alone and lost. Gordon placed a hand on his shoulder, and he shied away, flinching into the corner of the dark tank.

"Bruce, are you ok?" The vigilante looked up at the Commissioner and shook his head once.

"No. I'm not. Any more of this and I might just become jaded." (_-wasn't he already?-)_. He sighed, and the pair fell silent before a large bard owl hooted, making both of them jump. The loud engine that announced itself three seconds later didn't help much either. Bruce yelped as he jumped backwards, only to bang his head on the floor, resulting in the cracking of one of his 'ears'. All of a sudden, the engine cut out, and they heard a door open. Without planning, both froze and started breathing softly. The car was black, so if a hostile was to come looking for them, they shouldn't be able to see or hear them (_-not that that would ensure they weren't found. Fate would have decided it was funny to have a psycho murderer find them-)_. Bruce tensed as he heard the crackling sound of feet crushing dead branches, waiting with baited breath as they sound got louder before-

"Mister Wayne? Mister Wayne? Where are you?" Bruce's eyes widened in shock.

"Fox?" he breathed. The sound of a machine starting up accompanied the sound of chains clanking and soon enough, a shiny brown loafer at the bottom of a pair of slacks stepped in front of the smashed open window (_-shattered glass on the snow mixed with streaks of red, streaks of red across scattered pearls-)_.

"Fox!" he said a bit louder, and the feet turned around, and Bruce heard a gasp come from his CEO.

"Mister Wayne! Are you ok?" The feet moved forward and crouched down before revealing the face of Luscious Fox_(-expecting to run into much gunfire in these caves? More like explosives.-)_. The grey haired man smiled wryly before shaking his head.

"You sure have gotten into a squeeze, haven't you, Mister Wayne?" he asked, and Bruce nodded.

"Can you get us out?" he asked. Fox looked confused before a look of understanding dawned on his face .

"Ah yes, Commissioner Gordon's in there too, isn't he? Are you alright Commissioner?" Bruce watched the man struggle to look out the window, but give up after twisting seven different ways.

"I'm alright Mister Fox. Just a bit banged up is all." Fox nodded slightly, before backing up a few paces and glancing around.

"Alright, I'm barely here as it is, and the only way I got down here is because I took the new lift. You managed to crash the Tumbler in a steep ditch, and I doubt that you'll be able to climb out. So I've got a lift that can pull you up one at a time." Bruce glanced over at Gordon before gesturing for the man to climb out first (_-because if he knew that his charge was safe, nothing else mattered-)_. They waited for Fox to life himself out before watching the small metal platform inch down. Pressing himself against the back of the seat, he watched Gordon scramble past him, squeezing through the small window.

"I'm on!" he said, and Bruce heard the cranking of heavy machinery. Curious as to how it worked, he ducked his head out and watched as a smallish crane pulled the small bit of platform up. It clicked a few times when it got to the top, and Fox grabbed the chain to hold it steady as the Commissioner stepped onto the higher ground.

"Alright Mister Wayne, you next." Bruce scooted back into the smashed Tumbler as he watched the metal plate come lower and lower until the chains stopped extending and rattled to a halt. He started forward a little but froze, blood boiling and heart hammering suddenly. His head was shaking of its own accord, twisting back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and-

"Mister Wayne, you need to get on." Bruce shuddered as he stared at the plate (-_Bruce, for your own sake! Strike at Gotham…prove yourself worthy to lead these men…corrupted bureaucrats…ready to become…required of you…-)_.

"No…" he whispered.

Because the metal platform looked like the killing block he nearly used in Tibet.

**A/N. well, did you like it? I thought I wasn't gonna be able to get internet because I'm at my grandparents, but I do have internet, so I wrote this up in celebration! Plz review!**

**Thx-**

**TOAS**


	10. Daybreak for the Devestated

**A/n. This is the last chapter you guys! I would love to thank all of you guys for reading this and reviewing-you rock! Hopefully, this last chappie is good enough for you awesome peeps. **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Batman-he belongs to DC Comics sadly.**

Bruce backed away from the metal plate (_-the killing block, his humanity's gallows-)_, pressing up against the very back of the Tumbler until there was nowhere else to go. He heard an ominous creaking sound and part of the back of the Tumbler started caving in. (_-he was going to be crushed in here with the bats, because he couldn't get up again after falling this time-)_ Panicking, he shouted in fear and pressed up against the sharp edges of the handles as he tried to edge away from the death trap.

"Mister Wayne! Get on!" he heard Fox's voice from far away, calling down from the top of a very deep hole (_-where was his father, descending down on a wire so that he could tell Bruce what he should do after falling-)_.

"I…I can't!" he shouted, shrinking back as his own terrified voice echoed around him. There was the faint sound of murmuring voices above him and he panicked before Fox's voice echoed around him again.

"Why? Mister Wayne, the Tumbler is collapsing on itself, you need to get out now!" Bruce shook his head again (_-the Tumbler had collapsed on itself before, after the Joker blew it up, and he was still here, so why should he be worried? But the empty killing block still remained-)_.

"I'm not gonna get on that killing block! Not gonna stand where I nearly killed a man!" he could nearly hear the confusion in their voices as they talked, but they were the voices of all the people dead because of him_.(-Harvey and Rachel and Gordon and Mom and Dad and-)_. He shook his head, freaking out until-

"Master Wayne…Bruce." The voice of his long time friend and father figure sounded around him, and he somehow managed to hesitantly inch forward and peek out the top. And leaning over the gap he saw…Alfred. His mouth dropped (_-Pick ourselves back up-)_ and he watched as the older man motioned something to the other men and was lowered down to him (-_his father was dropping down next to him, and he's asking Bruce what to do when he falls down-)_. He glanced around and immediately shot backwards into the Tumbler when he saw the killing block (_-and Ras as he lies to him and stabs him and burns down the only thing he has left of his parents-)_. Another moan came from the heavy metal and it buckled forward some more, leaving Bruce with only a foot of clearance at the most to escape. His was panicking and getting claustrophobic and panicking and remembering and panicking and crying and panicking and-

"Bruce!" the call shocked him out of his dazed state of fear and he whipped his head up to stare out the small space to see…Alfred (_-pick ourselves back up… I give a crap because a very good man trusted me with the thing most important to him… you do have limit…, what we stand for… have to do with you… accomplice… never gonna give up on you… more than just bricks and mortar-)_.

"Come on master Bruce…Why do we fall?" Bruce stared at the butler (_-butler, father, brother, friend, shoulder to cry on, someone he could yell at, and then apologize, teacher, doctor, family-)_, incredulity dancing in his eyes as he slowly inches forward, flinching a little when the Tumbler bent inwards even more_. _

"So that we learn to pick ourselves up. And master Bruce, you can pick yourself up. You just need to get out of this hole and see the light of day." If Bruce thought the speech was cheesy later, he believed it was the most legit thing he'd ever heard in his life then. He scrambled out just as the roof of the Tumbled smashed inwards, and the vigilante could see the rocks that had been crushing it. He was backing against something, and with a yell, he jumped back towards the rubble pile when he saw the metal killing block, guillotine block, gallows block, death block. Alfred grabbed him and twisted him around so that he stared into the white-haired man's eyes.

"Bruce, that is not a killing block. You are not in Tibet, and Ras al Ghoul is dead. No, it is not your fault, nor is it your fault that Rachel is dead, or Harvey is dead, or your parents are dead. You just have some bad luck." (_-well, fate had decided to make his whole life a text-book example of bad luck-) _Bruce nodded docilely as Alfred stared at him, making sure that he understood what he was saying before clipping a spare hook onto the extra strapped on Bruce's utility belt. The vigilante didn't even notice as they were lifted upwards (_-being carried by his father as they rose out of the bat hole, only to die the next day-)_. The first thing he really registered was the fact that it had stopped raining, and that the sun was just coming up over the tops of the trees that surrounded the road. Sunlight glinted off the wet road and bounced off of the puddles of water to reflect on anything that passed by. He felt Alfred smile next to him as they were pulled over the side of the pit and set down on solid land (_-he's being dragged over the edge until he digs his gauntlets into the ice and stops himself. They're both sliding over the edge of a glass roof, and he spreads a wing, forcing them to land on a cab, he's on platform of 250 52__nd__, and he's launching himself over the side, taking Harvey and the kid with him, and the kid is his responsibility-he's Gordon's kid, so he swings the boy onto the platform and then lets go-)_. He stumbled a little, before staggering onto the road, staggering past it, staggering through the woods, ignoring the way they're yelling after him. He's in the woods, and then he's out of them, on an empty stretch of beach where the sun is sparkling across the calm ocean.

It's peaceful-

Graceful,

Quiet,

Happy,

_Alive._

And he wondered how three miles away there could be so much death. There's a feeling of someone tapping his shoulder (_-if it's Gordon again, he's going to punch the man-)_ and he glances over to see Alfred looking at him, tears brimming in his eyes as he sees the confused, but somehow peaceful look on Batman's face.

"No everyone's dead yet. You still have us." He gestures around to the three of them, the three men who have stood by him through everything, and have supported him and believed in him, and had saved him. And they aren't dead.

So that meant everyone wasn't dead.

There was still good.

Hope.

Life.

A reason to keep fighting, because if everyone was dead, he wouldn't be fighting. But they aren't dead. He smiled

warmly at them, and this time, the smile actually reaches his eyes. It's the first time that's happened in eighteen years, since his parents died.

_Then_ he passed out.

As fate would have it, three months later the Penguin called him out.

In an alley.

At night.

On a Monday.

Behind an opera house.

_(_He made sure to bring Gordon.)

**A/N. Sorry if it was short or unsatisfactory. Review and tell me what I should fix, and I'll try to edit it, or just change some parts. Please tell me what you think, all you people.**

**Thank you SOOOO much for reading all of this, you guys are amazing!**

**Thx so much!-**

**TOAS**


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